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A SUCCESSFUL STRATAGEM 

A Comedy in One Act 



BY 



K. McDowell rice 



A SUCCESSFUL STRATAGEM 



A COMEDY IN ONE ACT 



K. Mcdowell rice 



Dramatis Personae 



Colonel Wentworth, 
Col. Ashmore, . 
Caroline Wentworth, 
Nora, .... 



Retired army officer. 

In active service. 

An only daughter aged eighteen. 

A maid. 



Time — the present. 

Scene — room at Col. Wentworth's. 

Costumes— modern. 






THE LtaftARY of 
CONGRESS, 

Two Cc)i-ie« tiECEiveo 

MAR. 24 1902 

COFCHIfiMT ENTRY 

CL,!5S -©- XXa No 

COPY a 



Copyright 1902 

by 

K. McDowell Rice 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



i^Ztl'^S 



Price, IB cents 

Order of K. McDowell Rice 

Worthington, Mass. 

Printed by Gazette Printing Co. 



Permission to act 6r make any use of this play must be 
obtained of K. McDowell Rice, Worthington, Mass. 



A SUCCESSFUL STRATAGEM 



Room until three exits; one [C] leading to hall ivhich connects 
with street; others [L] and [R]. Col. Wentworth and Caro- 
line at table, informal luncheon, reading letters. 

Col. W. Ha, ha. Very good, very good. [Continues read- 
ing] Something here, Carrie, my dear, that I think will interest 
yoTi. 

C. [Looking up from her letter] And something here that 
ought to interest you. Tell me, papa — how do these two match ? 
[Holds up tioo samples of goods, then waves them before his eyes] 

Coi-,. W. [Looks up absently] Excellent, my dear, excellent. 
Should think they were off the same piece. [Returns to letter] 

C. [Laughs] Off the same piece I When one is corduroy 
and one chiffon. One the very heaviest and the other the very 
lightest thing made. Oh, papa I [Looks, as she banters, at Col. 
Wentworth, who is still engrossed with his reading] Will they 
go together? That's the question. [Studies samples more close- 
ly] Is it a good match ? 

Col. W. [Looks up quickly] Will they go together? Just 
what I was thinking. A good match? Why, to be sure, a most 
desirable match. The thing now is to bring it about. [Returns 
to letter] 

C. Oh, I can bring it about fast enough. I'll order ten 
yards of the corduroy and five of the chiffon, and have the bill 
sent to you. A matter of some £4 odd. 

Col. W. Eh? Bill to me 1 A dress for the wedding, eh ? 



4 A SUdCESSFtJL STRATAGEM. 

C. What wedding, papa ? What are you talking about ? Oh, 
[Resignedly] I see, I shall have to hear your letters before I can 
expect you to take any interest in mine. [Holds samples up to 
her neck, and with other hand reaches for small silver boivl, which 
is on the table, and looks therein at reflected self] [Aside] 
Why, it even looks becoming in these silver things that always 
distort one so ! [Holds bowl off and smiles at herself as she turns 
her head from side to side] [Aloud] I don't believe I can do 
better. 

Col. W. [From his letter] I'm sure you cannot, my dear. 
Excellent family ; brilliant military record, — 

C. [Mischievously] That's even more than the advertisement 
claims : [Reads from a jprinted slip] ' ' Best quality " ; — 

Col. W. [hiterrupting] The very best. 

C. [Reads] " Enduring though exposed to all weathers." 

Col. W. Exactly. Think of that scorching climate. 

C. [Reads.] "No equal in the market." 

Col. W. [Emphatically] True, every word of it. 

C. Papa, what are you talking about ? 

Col. W. What, may I ask, are you talking about? 

C. I'm discussing a new gown. 

Col. W. I might have known it ! 

C. I don't see how you could help knowing it, so long as you've 
seen the samples, and heard the prices, and even admitted I 
couldn't do better ! 

Col. W. [Who has torn open another letter] Really, my 
dear, you must hear these letters. [Looks for a particidar one] 
One from my old friend, General Ashmore. I told you the other 
day, you remember, about my seeing him in town and that he 
inquired all about you. 

C. [ With wide open eyes] Inquired all about me ! Why, you 
never told me a word of it, papa. 

Col. W. Is that so ? I certainly meant to, my dear. You re- 
call his son, John Ashmore, don't you? He says you used to 
play together when you were children. 

C. [Evidently much interested] Oh, you saw Jack, did you ? 

Col. W. No, I saw the General only. But he told me all 
about his son, who was on his way home from military service ; 
and said moreover that this Jack, as you call him, boasted of be- 



A SUCCESSFUL STRATAGEM. 5 

ing true to a child sweetheart whom he hadn't seen for years, but 
whose pictui-e he has always worn in a locket. 

C. How lovely and romantic, papa ! 

Col. W. Tut, tiit, my dear. [Shaking his head] He isn't 
that kind of a man at all. 

C. Not icliat kind of a man ? 

Col. W. He wouldn't understand a thing being termed 
" lovely" and "romantic." He is the plainest — 

C. [Disappointedly'] Oh, is he plain ? 

Col. W. I don't mean as to looks. I'm told he is very hand- 
some. But I mean he is a straightforward unaffected man, ex- 
actly like his father. But I was going on to say, my dear, that I 
believe the picture he has in that locket is a picture of you. 

C. [Enthusiastically] Of me ! Does the letter say so ? How 
very romantic, papa ! 

Col. W. [11710 has returned to letters] And then this long 
delightful letter from Sir Edward. You must read it for your- 
self, my dear. He says no end in praise of this young Colonel, — 
Col. John Ashmore, as he calls him. Where is it? [Finds 
place] Oh, yes. [Reads] ' ' Just returned from his distant, 
long, and dangerous service." " Astounding intrepidity." " Mil- 
itary insight almost phenomenal "^ — and so on. Why, really, — 
and praise from Sir Edward, as everybody knows, is praise in- 
deed. 

Caroline has risen and gone across the room for a case of photo- 
graphs with which she now returns. 

C. A picture of me ! I wonder which one of me it is. [Seats 
herself and looks them over] Do you suppose it is this, papa? 
[Selects one.] Or this ? I hope this, for it is much the prettier. 

Col. W. [Raising his hand disparagingly] He isn't that 
kind of a man at all, my dear. It would not matter to him which 
picture he had, so long as it were a picture of the individual, any 
more than it would to his father. He's exactly like his father, 
they tell me, and I know his father well enough to know that to 
him one picture would be just like another. 

C. [Still looking over photos] I hope he hasn't this one. This 
is positively ugly. I know I never looked like this. Now, did I, 
papa ? You don't think it could be this one ? 

COL. W. [ Waving it aside] I don't know anything about it, 



6 A SUCCESSFUL STRATAGEM. 

my dear. I know the fact only, — that he has a picture. Which 
picture is immaterial. His father was just such a matter-of-fact 
man. A regular Gradgrind on facts. His name among a few of 
us in the army was '• General G-radgrind." 

C. Do you know, papa, I think among mamma's things there 
is a picture of Jack Ashmore taken years ago. I must look it up. 
[Stealthily draws a delicate chain from her dress—Col. W. is 
gathering up his letters — and shielding the locket from Col. W. , 
glances furtively at the picture it holds] Yes, I'm quite sure 
mamma had such a picture. [Demurely] I remember looking 
at it, — not so very long ago. I wonder do you know anything 
about it, papa? It would be so romantic for me to wear it. 
[Returns locket to its place] 

Col. W. [Pushes back his chair] My dear Caroline, you 
seem to persist in taking a very wrong view of this matter. They 
are not a romantic family at all, and the son is exactly like the 
father ; nothing of the sort about him. 

C. [Pouting] But you say he's worn my picture all these 
years. 

Col. W. [Rising] Did I say that ? Then that was going a 
trifle too far. [Walks about room] What I should have said 
was that his father told me he believed he had a picture of yon 
in a locket. I never should have said he wore it. He probably 
put it in there years ago, and perhaps could not get it out. Who 
knows? That would be like his father. If John Ashmore put a 
picture in a locket, he would put it there to stay, and not bother 
with getting it out or changing it. It would be like his father, 
too, never to look at it after it was once in. 

C. But you said Jack Ashmore boasted of being true to this 
child sweetheart. 

Col. W. To a child sweetheart, I should have said, my dear. 
But I didn't say I had any proof it was you, did I ? 

C. But you made me think I was the one, papa. 

Col. W. [Unbending] Because I do think that is altogether 
likely, my dear. 

C. [Embracing him] How lovely of you, papa I You saw 
it in the same romantic light I did ; didn't you ? [Leads him to 
sofa] Now, you see, papa, if Jack Ashmore should come here, 
and — we — two — fall — in — love ! Why wouldn't it be the most 
lovely, romantic thing one could fancy 1 [Kisses him] 



A SUCCESSFUL STRATAGEM. 7 

Col. W. But, my dear, haven't I told you over and again that 
he's not that kind of a man? And that's what I want to talk 
with yoii about before he comes. 

C. Oh, he's coming, is he ! Let me see his letter. Humph ! 
[Tosses it aside] Doesn't mention me at all. 

Col. W. [Taking letter] Facts, you see. Just like his 
father. [Read%\ " I shall be down after lunch on the 1.40 and 
return at 4." 

C. The idea of his going away before dinner ! He must cer- 
tainly stay for a cup of tea. 

Col. W. I wouldn't interfere with his plans, my dear. He 
probably has each hour laid out for regular duties. His father 
is that sort of a man. And now, Caroline, I want to give you 
the right idea of Colonel Ashmore, so that you may appear at 
your best. In the first place, you must not call him " Jack." 

C. [With offended dignity] I should not think of calling him 
anything but Colonel Ashmore. 

Col. W. [Patting her hand] But even in speaking of him, 
my dear, let it be John, not Jack. 

C. But all the papers call him Jack,—" Col. Jack Ashmore." 
That account in the ' ' Times " did, where it told how popular he 
was in the army, and all about his opening that ball at Brighton 
with Lady Heartworthy. 

Col. W. Opening a ball ! John Ashmore's son never opened 
a ball, my child. This must be somebody else. The General 
never knew how to take a step in dancing. I don't believe he 
ever even watched a dance. And his son is exactly like him, they 
say. 

C. [Sighi7ig] I wonder where that nice Jack Ashmore is. I 
don't know that I like this John Ashmore. [Drauils out the 
name] 

Col. W. But, my dear, that is what I want to talk with you 
aboiit. I want you to like John Ashmore, and I want him to 
care for you. It would be the happiest moment of my life, could 
I know I might give you into the care of a man such as John 
Ashmore's son is sure to be. 

C. But I don't think I like that sort of a man, papa. 

COL. W. Not like him ! Why, you've not seen him. 

C. [Looking doum] No ; but a man that doesn't want to be 
called Jack, and a man who hasn't any sentiment, and wouldn't- 



8 A SUCCESSFUL STRATAGEM. 

look at a body's picture in a locket, — why [Looking up] he'd be 
awfully dull as a lover, papa. 

Col. W. Even so, that would not prevent him from making 
one of the best husbands in the world. Let me tell you how 
General Ashmore proposed to his wife. Let me, indeed, give 
you a complete history of his courtship. 

C. [Enthusiastically] A complete history of his courtship ! 
I'll ring to have the lunch removed [Touches bell] and then I must 
get my embroidery, papa, so that I may work while you talk. 
[Starts to get it] 

Col. W. [Detaining her] No, my dear, that will hardly be 
worth our while. It's not a long story. 

[Enter maid who removes lunch] 

C. But it's just lovely of you, papa, to tell me about it. 
[Seats herself] To begin with ; how old was she? 

Col. W. I don't know anything about that. I only know the 
General met her one day as she was coming out of a shop. 

C. [Throws hack her head and laughs] Out of a shop ! O, 
papa, how very unromantic I But he had known her before, hadn't 
he? 

Col. W. Oh, yes, indeed. But this was the time he proposed. 

C. [Protesting] But you promised me a complete history of 
the courtship. 

Col, W. 'Pon honor, this was all there was of it. I had it 
from the General himself. He met her coming out of this shop, 
and said to her, " Will you be my wife ? " 

C. [Laughs] It sounds exactly like a game of " Conse- 
quences." 

Col. W. She said she would, and — 

C. [Incredidously] You don't mean he kissed her right there 
on the highway ! 

CoL. W. There wasn't any kissing done that I ever heard of. 

C. [Patronizingly] I cannot believe you have the story at 
all right, papa. Now, you listen to my version of it. This, to 
my mind, was much more likely. They were in Venice, and she 
was going about in a gondola. We'll say, shopping in a gondola, 
if she must be shopping — but it's very hard to make that roman- 
tic. She had been to buy flowers and they lay in masses about 
her. And General Ashmore came along in another gondola, and 



A StJCCESSFUL STRATAGEM. 9 

glided near her. And she was perfectly beautiful, with lovely 
hair that the wind was tossing about, and she had violet eyes, 
and bewitching dimples, and the General realized it was the op- 
portunity of his life, and he whispered something to her. No- 
body ever knew what it was, but they two. And she smiled, and 
kissed a rose, and tossed it to him, and he kissed it too, and [Tri- 
imiphantly] General Ashmore wears that rose till this day in an 
exquisite antique locket that he bought that very day in Venice. 
Wears it, where he has always worn it, next his heart. [Finishes 
description by laying hand in ecstasy on her heart] 

Col. W. Ha, ha, ha. You make it all very pretty, my dear, 
but the facts are quite different. It was all quite as I said, I 
assure you. The General left her there, and did not see her but 
once or twice before they were married. But here is the point I 
want to make : John Ashmore [Measured tones] made one of the 
finest husbands the world has ever seen. 

C. [Rebelliously] Who says he did ? 

Col. W. Everybody. 

C. I don't believe it, and I refuse to believe until I hear it 
from Mrs. General herself. Perhaps she was contented with that 
sort of a lover, [Shrugs shoulders] but I could never be. What 
I want, papa, [Spiritedly] is a dashing sort of man, — handsome, 
clever, a man who rides well and dances, and — 

Col. W. But, my dear — 

C. Think how stupid it would be, papa, to have a lover who 
didn't even know enough to kiss one ! Bah ! 

Col. W. Listen to me, Caroline. I know the sort of woman 
John Ashmore admired, and I know the sort of woman his son 
will choose. Now are you not willing to do a little for me when 
the son of my old friend comes to see us ? To dress and act a lit- 
tle as I should like to have you ? 

C. [Reflecting] That depends, papa, on what you want me 
to wear. 

Col. W. Bring me that case of old pictures, my dear. [C. 
brings box of daguerreotypes ; Col. W. looks them over.] There, 
[Selects ojie] that is a picture of Mrs. Ashmore. 

C. [Coolly viewing it askance.] I should have known it was. 
And I understand now why the General didn't insist upon kiss- 
ing her. You see, she didn't get herself up " kissable," papa 



10 A SUCCESSFUL STRATAGEM. 

Look, for instance, at the way she has done her hair. Why, a 
Venus, even, could not wear it so ! 

Col, W. That reminds me, my dear, [Passes his hand over 
C.'s hair] don't you think these locks of yours might be brought 
into subjection a little ? 

C. Into subjection ! Why, my hair is in most perfect sub- 
jection, papa. [Goes to mirror] It looks exactly as I want to 
have it. [Regards herself complacently] 

Col. W. [Goes toward her] This gown, too. It seems to me 
it looks much more like what one sees in a picture than what one 
looks for in real life. 

C. How lovely of you, papa I Then it is picturesqiie, is it ? 
[CatcJies up her skirts] That's what I tried to have it. And to 
hear you of all others pronounce me like a picture in it, is the most 
satisfactory thing 1 ever knew. 

Col. W. But what will you wear when Colonel Ashmore 
comes? 

C. Let me think. Leaving at that hour, he will reach here 
about 3. Then I can wear something quite light and dressy, can 
I not? [Meditates] My new gown! The very thing! It has 
just come, and is the sweetest thing you ever saw, papa. Light 
gray with silver trimmings, and the sleeves are slashed, with silk 
mull, coming out at the shoulders, so, [Illustrates] and then the 
same soft material at the neck. If you think this gown is pic- 
turesque, papa, I just wonder what you'll say to that ! 

Col, W. There is nothing very military about it, I should 
judge. 

C. Most decidedly not. If there's one thing I dislike above 
another, it's a woman in brass buttons and coats and vests and 
high stiff collars, like men. Don't you fear, papa, I shall have 
all my gowns made with soft draperies in the hope of getting a 
graceful curve occasionally ; and I shall never wear anything 
stiff and mannish. This new gown I speak of, papa, is so lovely 
[Clasps hands enthusiastically] I really believe I could wear it 
even to a ball I 

Col. W. [Severely] Then I consider it far from proper for 
you to wear to receive Colonel Ashmore. He is very plain in his 
tastes. 

C. Oh, bother the old prig ! I hate him already. Cadaverous 
looking old thing. I know he's cadaverous, and I wouldn't marry 



A StJCCESSFUL STRATAGEM. 11 

him for anything in the world 1 [Flounces about the room] 
[A pause, then in milder tones.] I'm not going to dress to suit 
Colonel Ashmore, papa. I'm going to dress for myself and for 
yon. 

Col. W. If the last is true, and you are going to dress for 
me, you will not wear the gown you speak of or anything like it, 
but will put on something dark and quiet. 

C. [With sarcasm] Something of this style, perhaps. 
[Shoios daguerreotype of Mrs. Ashmore] 

Col. W. Yes, I should say so. It seems to me, Caroline, that 
your gowns are rather childish, are they not ? 

C. Compared with Mrs. Ashmore's, I believe they are. But 
then I should think there was some difference in our ages, papa. 

Col. W. I don't think Mrs. Ashmore was much older than 
you when this was taken. [Regards daguerreotype] But you see 
what I mean, my dear. A woman in that sort of gown [Taps 
daguerreotype] is suitably dressed for any occasion. But we'll 
talk no more about it. You understand me, I am sure. [C. ibises 
to go] One moment, Caroline. There are a few things I should 
like to change about this room. 

C. To change, papa? 

Col. W. These cushions, for instance. There are too many 
of them on one sofa, my dear, and too many of them on the 
chairs. A man likes to find a sofa look as though he could lie 
down on it if he chose. 

C. But, papa, not in a room of this character ! The room 
where we receive most of our friends. There are other rooms to 
rest in. 

Col. W. I know, my dear. But this is the room we spend 
most of our time in, and to my mind it would be much improved 
by having fewer things in it. That large easel, for instance, is 
very much in the way, and those plants would be much more ap- 
propriate to the veranda. And there are a number of other things 
I might mention. You would not mind if I changed the arrange- 
ment of the things somewhat ? 

C. But, papa, I have given each thing my best thought, and 
the room looks better this way than any other. 

Col. W. But the Ashmore— 

C. Very good, papa, do as you like. And I'll go now and 



13 A StrcCESSFtJL STRATAGEM. 

dress to be ready when you come back. You are going to meet 
Col. Ashmore, are you not? 

Col. W. Yes, I shall walk down and meet him. 

A. [Aside] [Mischievously, as she goes out, daguerreotype in 
hand] And I shall take this picture of that Mrs. Ashmore and 
get myself up as much like it as possible. Papa will have no rea- 
son to call me too picturesque this time ! [Exit, laughing] 

Col. Wentworth left alone goes about the room removing various 
things. He takes out [C] an armful of eider down cushions, 
carries out picture and easel, then plants, etc., etc. Brings 
various things from adjoining room. Throios dressing goum 
on a chair, an afghan on the sofa, some pipes and tobacco 
about, and scatters some newspapers. 

Col. W. [Surveying his ivork] There, this now begins to 
look as though people were living in it and enjoying it. The 
Ashmore quarters at the Fort always had that look. Nothing 
superfluous. Bless me ! What o'clock is this ? [Consults clock 
and verifies by watch] Can it be possible ? I've not left myself 
time to meet him. 

Maid ushers in Col. Ashmore [C]. 

Col. W. My dear fellow, a thousand pardons. The hour es- 
caped me. I meant to meet you. [They shake hands most cor- 
dially] 

Col. a. I stood on no ceremony, as yon see, but came direct- 
ly to the house. 

Col. W. Quite right, Colonel Ashmore, and most welcome. 

Col. a. [Removing gloves] Oh, let it be "Jack," Colonel 
Wentworth. You knew me by that name as a boy. 

Col. W. And you are that boy still, I see. You've really 
changed very little. I expected to find you more like your 
father. 

Col. a. No, it's Tom who is so like father. He's all Ash- 
more, I believe. I'm exactly like great grandfather Somebody 
else, who flourished somewhere in the last century. Nobody is 
living who remembers him, but the gentleman evidently had 
some characteristics that became generally enough known to de- 
cide people I'm exactly like him. [Seats himself ] How are you, 
Colonel Wentworth ? And how is little Carol ? She hasn't for- 
gotten me, I trust ? 



A SUCCESSFUL STRATAGEM. 13 

Col. W. Oh no, indeed. We've been talking of your coming. 
As for myself, I'm in unnsnally good condition, and as the song 
says, "The better for seeing you." Have a cigar. [Business. 
Col. A. refusing] You're looking splendidly, my dear fellow, 
splendidly. The General v^as telling me last time I ran up to 
town of some of your encounters lately, and I've had a letter 
from Sir Edward this morning in which reference to your mili- 
tary skill is not wanting I assure you. I told Caroline she must 
take the letter and read it, rCol. A. betrays interest] but it seems 
she didn't. I have it here, I think. [Takes same from bundle of 
letters and lays it on table] I must ask you later as to some of 
those places he mentions. The names are somewhat familiar 
through the papers, but I need a little better map knowledge. 
By the way, some of those situations Sir Edward describes strike 
me, I must admit, about as blood-curdling as anything I ever 
heard of. Wonderful insight you showed, my boy, and splendid 
courage. But your promotion is a more substantial tribute to 
your magnificent daring than anything I can say. There's no 
doubt you've the right material in you for army life. Little 
need, I suppose, to ask if j^ou like it? 

Col. a. When I'm there. I'm in it heart and soul. But I 
can't say I'm as fond of it as an Ashmore ought to be. Tom, 
now, is an army man in the fullest sense of the word. He won't 
leave even when he may ! Now to me, the best part of army life 
is the coming home to family and friends. I've been revelling in 
the sight of old friends since my return, and I may say one of 
my pleasantest anticipations for some time past has been the 
thought of running down here to see you. Colonel Wentworth, 
you and Ca — , Miss Carol. She is at home, you say? 

Col. W. Oh, yes, she'll join us directly, I think. You speak 
of old friends in town. I'm interested to know whom you have 
run across. 

Col. W. I've not had time to see so very many as yet. We 
only landed at Liverpool on Monday, and I've been "being 
spoiled" at home since I reached there. A mother and sister 
know how to do that for a fellow, you know. And such a beauty 
as little Muriel has grown to be I Have you seen her ? One of 
those laughing, bewitching faces ; a hundred expressions in a 
minute, and such a tease ! Well, well, [Laughs] these two days 
have made me think of the way Carol Wentworth used to lead 



14 A SUCCESSFUL STRATAGEM. 

me about with all her coquettish ways and graces. I've been 
thinking she was just about the age that Muriel is now, when I 
went into the army. 

Col. W. Seen anything of Captain Fayreweather ? 

Col. a. [Brought back from almost a reverie] Fayre- 
weather ? Oh, yes, the Heartworthys and Fayreweathers dined 
with us last night. There are some people coming in to lunch 
to-day, and to tea this afternoon to meet me, mother says, [Laughs] 
so you may believe I had to make out a pretty strong case to get 
off for even a few hours. But I took the ground that I hadn't 
seen you, Colonel Wentworth, for something like five years, and 
that I really must run down. [Aside] And Carol, it seems, 
didn't care to read Sir Edward's letter about me. 

Col. W. Delighted, delighted. I don't know when anything 
has stirred the old war-horse in me as your note this morning. It 
was all too in the mere signature, "John Ashmore." Not a par- 
ticle as your father v^rites it though. I've a business letter from 
him here somewhere. [Finds it] Just compare those signatures. 
Every stroke of his so straight and precise. [Shoivs signatures] 

Col. a. Tom has that hand exactly. He's Ashmore through 
and through. 

Col. W. [Still comparing signatures] I meant to call Caro- 
line's attention to this, in fact I believe I did, but she was inter- 
ested in some letters of her own. [Still intent] Very curious 
indeed. 

Col. a. [Aside] Letters of her own ! No interest in mine, 
or any that told of me. 

Col. W. That name, "John Ashmore," wherever I should 
see it. in whatever handwriting, would bring up a thousand 
memories. Your father and I, as you know, saw many years of 
active service together. It's hard to realize that nearly twenty 
years have passed since then ! Well, well, time flies ! 

Col. a. Indeed it does ! [Aside] And it is flying now, 
though in one way the minutes seem like hours. Carol knew 
then that I was coming, but no sign from her. The interest in 
meeting again is evidently mine alone. [Aloud] Does your 
daughter know I am here, Colonel Wentworth ? Your discover- 
ing me as I entered, gave no chance for me to send my name. I 
should be sorry to go back without seeing her. 



A SUCCESSFUL STRATAGEM. 15 

Col. W. Possibly she does not know. I had thought she 
would join us. Pray excuse me, I'll go find her. 

[Exit R] 

Col. a. And wliat room is this, I wonder ? [Stands and 
looks about] A sort of conglomeration of dressing-room and 
morning-room with dressing-room in the majority. It doesn't 
speak much for the taste of the daughter, I'm afraid. [Shrugs] 
But I've made up my mind to be disappointed. [Walks about] 
She was the most fascinating child I ever knew, and she's had a 
hold on my heart-strings ever since. Yet not so much of a child 
either. In many ways she seemed a woman. How strong the 
old feeling is I So strong, indeed, that it has brought me here 
solely to see her. But I must bear in mind the possibility, 
the probability even of finding her totally changed. I wonder 
if any of these pictures can be of her. [Looks over a collection 
of photographs lying on the piano. Back to audience] 

Enter Caroline [R] in an old-fashioned gown, hair smoothed low 
over ears, long ear-rings, etc., etc. She does not perceive Col. 
Ashmore. 

Caroline. Where are you, papa? And isn't it time you went 
to meet your cadaverous Colonel ? 

Col. a. [Aside] [Turning about] Is that supposed to be I ? 
[Regards C. critically] As I feared, changed totally ! And mak- 
ing sport of her father's guest. Well, the sooner the enlighten- 
ment comes in such a case, the better. No, I have not a single 
emotion at seeing her. [Caroline stumbles over a hassock which 
has been put in the room by her father] Awkward, too ! This is 
what comes of bringing up a daughter out in the country away 
from everybody. Poor girl, I really pity her I And what 
wretched taste she shows in her dress ! She does not seem at all 
at home in her clothes, and doesn't seem at home in this room 
either, to judge from her expression. [Caroline has been looking 
about the room in dismay, her face turned from Col. A. She fi- 
nally calls out in pettish tones] 

C. Papa, what does this mean? What have you been doing? 

Col. a. [Stepping forward] Pardon me, this is Miss Went- 
worth, I believe. 

C. [Wretchedly embarrassed] Yes, I — I— did not know you 
had come. 



16 A SUCCESSFUL STRATAGEM. 

Col. a. I did not stand iipon much ceremony. I admit, for 
not finding your father at the station. I came directlj^ here. 

C, [With face turned aivay] I think I must find papa. [Exit 
hastily L] 

Col. a. [Following her ivith his eyes] This is indeed a rude 
awakening. Who could think that that was ever little Carol ! 
I scarcelj^ caught sight of her face, but I could see that she was 
changed utterly. She did not even pronounce my name. She 
did not seeni really to know me. How different it all is from 
what I had hoped ! [Reflects sadly] I had promised to make a 
little visit before Colonel Wentworth should take me to see — 
what was I to see ? Oh, yes, the Old Tower. It was the Old 
Tower, that I made the ground of my coming here to hide my 
wish to see Caroline Wentworth. And now — [Goes toivards the 
hallway] Now, we cannot go too soon to the Old Tower, and I 
cannot too soon get back to town. [Considts tcatch and exit C] 

Enter Caroline [L] with Col. Wentworth, loho is ready to go out, 
and with whom she is talking earnestly. 

C. Yes, the most miserable girl in the world, and it is all be- 
cause of you, papa. You made me get myself up is this dress, 
this horrible gown. Enough to set anybody against me. 

Col. W. [Incredidoiisly] I made you ! Why, I don't know 
that I ever saw it before. [Inspects her and feels of goivn] Did 
I ever say I liked it? You certainly don't look natural, Caroline. 

C. Natural 1 1 should think not, I am a perfect guy from 
head to foot. No one knows it better than I do, and it's all be- 
cause you wanted me to dress like that awful looking woman in 
the picture. [Catches her breath in half sob] 

Col. W. [Mystified] What woman, my child? 

C. [S^o6s] His mother. 

Col. W. Whose mother? [Kindly] Talk intelligibly, Caro- 
line. 

C. [Thrusts daguerreotype at him] You said anybody in a 
gown like that was suitably dressed for any occasion, so I — 1 — 
copied it, just as nearly as I could. 

Col. W. You copied it ! [Looks alternately at Caroline and 
the daguerreotype] I never expected you to do that, Caroline. 
You know I did not. 

C. But I did it ; though all the time I thought it was perfectly 



A SUCCESSFUL STRATAGEM. 17 

hideous, and I told you so at the very beginning, but no, no, you 
liked it so I tried it. And then not content vvith that, you have 
gone even further and have made this room look perfectly shock- 
ing. Whoever heard of a piano and a dressing gown in the same 
room? What will Col. Ashmore think of us? [Indignantly] 
What can he think but that we might as well be living in the 
back woods for all we show of taste in our home, or even of 
common sense? 

Col. W. [Attemjjts to pacify'] There, there, I can explain it 
all to him, my dear. I'll tell him just how it came about and 
that it was all my fault. I'll make it all right, Caroline, so don't 
worry about that. [Attempts gaiety] Why I began to think 
something dreadful had happened. Come, come, now. Dry 
your eyes, and put back your hair. You don't look like yourself 
at all. I really wonder that Col. Ashmore knew you. I'll tell 
him all about it as we're going to the Old Tower, eh? It's really 
quite amusing, my dear. [Tries to laugh, hut fails, and is evi- 
dently quite concerned over C's appearance. Attempts himself to 
put hack her hair] 

C. [Dolefidly] It's not a bit amusing, papa, and as to your 
trying to make things better by explaining, you'll only make mat- 
ters worse. If now I really thovLgh-t— [Suddenly as though an 
idea has struck her] Tell me, papa, am I so very much changed 
in this ? 

COL. W. [Regarding her] Why you are the most totally 
changed little girl I ever saw. 'Pon honor, if I'd seen you any- 
where else, I think I shouldn't have known you. 

C. [Delightedly] Oh, papa, do you really mean it ? Then do 
help me. Say that you will. [Entreats him] For what is left 
for me to do ; what indeed I must do, I cannot accomplish with- 
out your aid. [With intensity] Say that you will help me. 

Col. W. What do you mean, Caroline ? 

C. [Looks at entrance [C] 'as though fearing interruption] 
Where is Col. Ashmore ? 

CoL. W. He has gone into my office to look over some army 
maps, and will join me here. 

C. [In consternation] Here ! He must not get a look at me 
again as I am now. Don't lose a word, papa, of what I am going 
to say. I have so little time to tell you. Listen : This is how 



18 A SUCCESSFUL STRATAGEM. 

j'ou are to help me. When you go oiit with Col. Ashmore, you 
are to take him to the Old Tower, and then instead of coming 
hack by the Barracks, you are to turn and go toward the high 
road. 

Col. W. The high road ! But, my dear, that will take us di- 
rectly out of our way. 

C. Just what I mean it to do. Keep straight on until you 
come to the ruins. 

Col. W. The ruins! A good two miles. 

C. I wish it were a good four. But you can make it as good 
as four if you walk slowly enough. 

Col. W. But Col. Ashmore can never get that four o'clock 
train . 

C. Never, if you follow my instructions, and follow them 
you must, papa. I have never asked anything of you in my life 
with the earnestness I ask this. O, papa. [Clasps his arm be- 
seechingly] I beg you — 

Col. W. My dear child, I cannot understand you. Calm 
yourself, Caroline. What does this mean ? 

C. Hush, hiish ! He is coming back. I cannot explain. But 
if you love me, papa, do this thing. As you love me do this. 

CoL. W. [Moved by her agitation] I will, my child, I will. 

C. This person that Col. Ashmore has seen [Points to herself, 
her dress and hair] must be somebody else in the family, an 
older sister, perhaps. I'll think that out while you're gone. Col. 
Ashmore must believe he hasn't really seen me yet ; the one he 
used to know. And when you come back, you will find me here, 
the real me, papa, and then you must remember to present me as 
your younger daughter. Do you comprehend, papa? [A light 
of comprehension begins to break oner Col. W's face, and he nods 
acquiescence] Then remember you have promised as you love me 
to do this, and by and by you will understand it all. 

Enter Col. A. [C] 

Col. W. [Perceiving Col. A.] Ah, ready? Then we'll set 
out. [To C] Goodby for a little while, Carrie, my dear. [Car- 
oline starts at the word showing Col. A. is present, as though for 
sudden exit, but reconsiders and stands with her face still turned 
from him] 



A SUCCESSFUL STRATAGEM. 19 

Col. a. [Aside] My boyhood's dream is over. That, Carol ? 
The Carol for whom 1 have come over land and sea ! The Carol 
of my thoughts day and night ! What horrible darkness this 
day has brought into my life, and I looked for such light ! Oh, 
for my little Carol, not that — [Turning from the figure in the fore- 
ground] but the little Carol that once was ! The little Carol who 
would have welcomed me ! [Aloud] Good by. Miss Wentworth. 
[Bows low] 

C. [Half turns and bows stiffly] Goodby. 

[Exeunt Col. A. and Col. W.] 

C. "Goodby, Miss Wentworth "—oh, how dreadful! [Puts 
hands over her ears] Dreadful ! Suppose it were really to mean 
goodby, and I were never to see him again ! Why did he wait 
so long before he said it? Was he looking at me, I wonder? Oh, 
if he cared for me, would he not have come to me in whatever 
dress I wore, however changed I might be, and tell me that he 
cared? Shall I ever have a chance to tell him how I feel? 
Would he have listened to me? Oh, what have I done? What 
have I done ? And now everything is left with papa,— everything ! 
Will he remember to bring him back ? Suppose he should not. 
What if Col. Ashmore should insist upon going to the station 
without coming back here, and papa is not able to dissuade him. 
Oh, what have I done ? [Despairingly] Have I let him go for- 
ever! I heard him say something about a first train back to 
town. Just now he said so as they went out. [Runs to windoio] 
Suppose what he says should put my instructions out of papa's 
mind. [In consternation] I fear it has, for they seem to be 
really hastening. O, papa, do go slowly! [Sta^ids on tiptoe] 
He seems to hear me, for they certainly are going less fast. Yes, 
papa's steps are positively faltering. O, papa, what an actor you 
would make ! [Laughs] He is absolutely leaning now on Col. 
Ashmore's arm. It is sure to go all right now. He means to get 
more and more feeble, I see. I shouldn't wonder if he'd even 
end by going into a swoon. [Laughs merrily] Ah, Jack, [Strains 
for a last look], you were my lover once ! Will you ever be 
again, I wonder? Are happy days like those ever to come again? 
Perhaps they may, for papa tells me you asked for little Carol, 
and if she still remembered you. And now for myself. Off 
with this horrid gown! [Snatches a kerchief from her neck] 



20 A SUCCESSFUL STRATAGEM. 

But first this room. [Touclies a bell] [Catches sight of letters 
on table] Sir Edward's letter about Jack. [Eagerly takes it] 
And Jack's own letter. Oh, Jack, Jack ! [Kisses his letter pas- 
sionately. Thrusts both hastily into Iter dress] 
Enter Nora. 

C. [Calmly] I find this room quite in disorder, Nora. Will 
you arrange it at once as it usually is. The plants, I think, are 
on the veranda, and the other things close at hand. [Exit L] 

Nora. [Watches C. o^(t] [Shakes her head sadly] Poor Miss 
Car'line, I niver noticed it till to-day but her poor father's mind 
is evidently giving way. To think of his bringing his gown in 
here, and his pipes, and all Miss Car'line's pretty eider down pil- 
lows, I found tumbled together in the hall closet. [Brings them 
in, shakes them out, and arranges in place] Was the Colonel 
taken sick in here, I wonder? Perhaps it's that, that explains it 
all. And is that the doctor that is taking him off to walk, I 
wonder ? [Looks out of the toindow] And they're not out of 
sight yet ! Poor man, poor man ! How slow he walks. He 
seems to be a-leanin' his whole weight on the poor doctor. What's 
happenin' now? It's the two that seem to have stopped intirely. 
No, they're at it again. But it's a snail's pace and no more. 
[Returns to icork] And it's my humble opinion that the Colonel 
shouldn't be walkin' at all in his prisent state. The proper place 
for the owld gintleman is in his own bed, flat on his back, with the 
doctor a-feelin' of his .pulse, and lookin' ever}^ now and then at 
his tongue. It's no doctorin' one gets now at all. Little or no 
attention from anybody. People advisin' ye to forget yere mal- 
ady ; make believe ye haven't it, — and all that. Faith, they 
even told me last winter that if I could forget for ten min- 
utes that I had the jumpin' toothache, I'd have it no longer ! 
And me nearly crazy tryin' to forget it, and at the same time to 
be sure just when it left me. And, faith, it niver left me till I 
put a flaxseed poultice on one cheek, and a hot flat iron on the 
other, and took a drop of the cratur and went to bed. [Goes to 
windoio and holds up both hands in dismay] And it's thim that's 
still at it ! One would think that they had taken lave of their 
sinses and were bound for the Owld Tower. Now they're restin' 
again. Has the doctor no sinse at all ? Can't he see with one 
eye that the owld gintleman is weak as a rat? Turn round now, 



A SUCOESSFIJL STRATAGfiM. SI 

both of y6es, if ye'd know what's good for ye. No ? Well, go 
on then, but it's sure death for one of yees. [Retur^is to work] 
I've no faith in these young doctors. Walkin' a body's legs off ! 
They won't even let one have a dacent case of typhoid faver, but 
must call it " walking typhoid " as they did with my sister-in- 
law, and keep a body on their legs the while ! Oh, I wish Miss 
Car'line might have been spared the sight of this room. [Begins 
to tveep as she carries out dressing goiim] [Returns to work] It's 
all come upon him very suddent. Just as it came to my brother- 
in-law. Mind and body went together. Oh, I wouldn't let Miss 
Car'line know for the world, but I heard him tell the doctor as 
they went out that he had two daughters ! Poor Miss Car'line, 
and she the only child, and always has been ! And the doctor, 
he seemed to suspicion something, and he says, says he, quite 
astonished like: "Two daughters! Why I never knew there 
was but one." And Miss Car'line's father said there tvas two. 
Oh, it was dreadful! [Wi2:)es her eyes] And the doctor says, 
says he, "What is the other one's name?" And poor Miss 
Car'line's father shook his head and didn't seem to know. [aSo6s] 
And poor Miss Car'line, too, looking so sad in her black dress. 
Looking ten years older than she iver looked before. She ain't 
pretty little Miss Carol no longer. And all in a few hours it has 
come about. And her as does so mu.ch in the parish, clothing 
the poor children, and learnin' 'em to sew with her own pretty 
hands, — and everybody comin' to Miss Car'line with their griefs 
and troubles, and she always sendin' 'em away happy. Many's 
the time I've seen 'em come sad and miserable, and then seen 'em 
go away with beautiful smiles on their faces. It's pair-a-lisis, 
I'm sure. Thafs what they called it with my brother-in-law. 
[Sobs and wrings hands] A stroke it was, and it came to him 
just so. All in a minute, and changed everything, just as it is 
going to change everything here. [Wipes her eyes from time to 
time as she finishes putting room in order] [Exit] 

Enter Col. Wentworth and Col. Ashmore. 

Col. a. I accept the explanation, my dear Colonel. But I 
thought I had made it very clear that I must take the first train 
back. What is the next, may I ask, seeing I have lost this ? 

Col. W. I have a table of the trains, which I will get for 
you [Starts to go, when Caroline in changed costume comes trip- 



22 A SUCCESSFtTL STRATAGEM. 

ping gaily into the room} [L] Ah, yes, to be sure, my dear. 
Colonel Ashmore, this is my younger daughter. 

Col. a. [Starts foi^ward in surprise and delight. Stammers] 
I — I — had forgotten — 

C. [Drops courtesy and shakes finger play fully] You had for- 
gotten me I What an admission to make ! But I have not for- 
gotten you at all, Colonel Jack. [Gives him her hand] 

Col. a. I had not forgotten you at all, Carol, — Miss Carol; 
but I had forgotten that there were two daughters. 

C. [Naively] There were not two of us when Col. Ashmore 
used to know us so well ; were there, papa? [Col. W. looks much 
confused, but Col. A. engrossed watching C. does not notice] 
When did you see my sister ? 

Col. a. She was here for a moment after I came, and as we 
went out. 

C. Was she, indeed ! I did not know she had been down 
stairs at all to-day. Listen ! Carrie is calling you now ; isn't 
she, papa ? 

Col. W. [Listens] Bless me, I believe she is. [Exit hastily] 

Col. a. I cannot tell you how delighted I am to see you 
again, Miss Carol. 

C. [Pouting] Even though you had forgotten all about me. 

Col. a. I protest. I have never forgotten you. But seeing 
someone here this morning who called Col. Wentworth her 
father, I naturally thought it must be you. 

C. You did not think that was I ! Oh, I see now how com- 
pletely you had forgotten me. Do I look like Carrie ? [Puts up 
her face] 

Col. a. Indeed you do not, I assure you. But how is this ? 
She, too, is called Carrie? 

C. That is merely a nick-name. Her real name is — [Aside in 
dismay] Oh, what shall I say? [Aloud] Karenhappuch. 

Col. a. [Aside] I should think so. It just suits her. [Aloud] 
And your name ? 

C. My name? You really have forgotten my name ! Forgot- 
ten me and forgotten my name. [Appears much p)ut out] 

Col. a. [Gravely ; looking into her face] You were Carol 
once. 

C. [Giving her hand for an instant] [Full face] And I am 
Carol still, 



A SUCCESSFUL STiRATAd}EM. ^3 

Col. a. [Delighted] You see how it happened. You do not 
look like her, I admit ; but— 

C. [Lenieyitly] People do say there is a resemblance, and as 
she is a sort of relative, perhaps there may be. Papa is very fond 
of her. 

Col. a. He adopted her ? 

C. [Aside] What a capital suggestion ! [Alo^ld] Yes, and 
you have no idea how he admires that style of woman. [Sadly] 
He really likes her better than he does me. 

CoL. A. [Symimthetically] My dear Carol — pardon me, but 
you meant that I might call you that ? 

C. [Coquettishly] I said that I was Carol still. But there 
was nothing said of adjectives of any kind. 

CoL. A. You feel this, of course, Carol ; your father's prefer- 
ence for this adopted daughter ? 

C. I have tried to enter into papa's view of the matter, and 
sometimes I can almost completely. I am not jealous of Carrie 
at all ; do not think that. 

CoL. A. [Aside] How generous, how lovely she is ! And 
her father prefers one who cannot compare with her. [Aloud] 
Doesn't it make confusion having your names so much alike ? 

C. Alike 1 Is Karenhappuch much like Carol, I'd like to 
know? 

CoL. A. Ah, you did say the name was — was— [Hesitates] 

C. Karenhappuch. I say things and you forget them straight- 
way. 

CoL. A. I forget nothing, I assure you. But this name,— a 
very odd one, is it not ? Where did they ever find it, do you sup- 
pose ? 

C. I don't know, I'm sure. I'll ask Carrie. [Rises to go] 

Col. a. I pray you don't go. It is a matter of no moment, 
none at all, I assure you. Karenhappuch— Karenhappuch, the 
more I say it over the more familiar it seems. 

C. Carrie would be delighted to come and tell us all about it. 
She knows, I'm sure, just where it originated. She knows every- 
thing, Karenhappuch does. 

Col. a. I'm sure indeed she does, but I think I shall be able 
myself to recall anything I may have known about the name. 
But in any case, it matters not. 



M A StJCCESSFtJL STRATAGEM, 

C. Why not ask her to come and settle it at once ? 

Col. a. Simply because I don't want her to come. 

C. But if I do want her? 
. Col. a. [Boiving stiffly] As you wish it, Miss Wentworth. 
C. rises, but instead of leaving room, seats herself at j^icmo and 
strikes a feiv chords. Col. A. is at loss what course to take. 

C. [With bewitching smile] Do you know this minuet, Col. 
Jack? 

Col. a. [Hastens to her side, and looks at music] No, I do 
not. It is entirely new to me, I think. 

C. Then I must teach it to you at once. 

Col. a. I shall be delighted. Shall we play it as a duet? 
[Ooes for chair, ichich he places by her side] 

Enter Col. Wentworth [L] unperceived. 

Col. W. [Aside] Bless me I That doesn't look much like his 
father ! But perhaps I'd better go back to Carrie. [Exit L] 

C. [^s Col. A. seats himself] I don't mean you are to play it. 
How stupid of you ! I mean you must learn to dance it. 

Col. a. [Rising] To dance it? That will be still more de- 
lightful. 

C. [Aside] [As she moves a rug out of the way] He is one of 
those lovely men that can do anything ! 

Col. a. [Having rolled aside a chair or two] Now, how do 
we begin ? 

C. We stand this way, — so. I give you my left hand. [Col. 
A. takes it with a low bow, and presses it to his lijjs] 

C. [Naively] That isn't in the directions, is it? [Takes sheet 
of music] 

Col. a. I don't know. Let us read them. [They look at sheet 
together] I see nothing contrary to it here. [Both laugh] 

C. It really makes it prettier than to start off without a bow 
or anything, doesn't it? 

Col. A. [Warmly] Very much prettier. [Reaches for her 
hand] Shall we begin again ? 

C. [Putting her hands behind her] We cannot do a thing 
without the music. 

Col. a. We must have the music by all means. [C. starts to 
leave room] But where are you going ? 

C. To ask Carrie to come and play for us. 



A SUCCESSFUL STRATAGEM. 25 

Col. a. I beg of you, don't think of it. We — we want to 
learn it together, you know, and your sister might laugh at my 
blunders. A fellow is so awfully awkward, don't you know, 
learning a new dance. 

C. But you said yourself that we must have the music. 

Coii. A. But I didn't know that that meant to have Carrie 
come. 

C. If she sits over there with her back to us, she won't know 
how you get on, and I'll promise not to tell her how awfully awk- 
ward you are. 

CoL. A. " Awfully awkward " ! Well, I like this. 

C. It was you who said j^ou would be. I'm only repeating 
what you say. But how can we ever get on without the music ? 
[Pouts] 

Col. a. Cannot I whistle it ? 

C. [Delightedly] Perhaps you can. [Col. A. tahes music in 
left hand and C.'s hand in his right. They prepare for first steps, 
C. putting out her right foot, Col. A. his left] 

Col. a. Why not sing it together ? 

C. The very thing I Let's try it. [She takes a. look at the 
music] 

Both. La la la, la la la. [They take tivo slow steps] 

Enter Col. Wentworth [L] unperceived. 

Col. W. [Aside] Bless me ! John Ashmore's son ! His 
father never took a fancy step in his life, I'm sure. [Regards 
them in wonder. Puts hand up to ear, and appears to listen in- 
tently] Perhaps that is Carrie calling me again. [Exit L] 
Col. A. in dancing approaches C. to shotv her the music. She 
has locket attached by slender chain to old-fashioned bracelet 
upon her wrist. As they separate to resume dance, her brace- 
let catches upon his watch guard — ujjper waistcoat p)oeket, left 
side. The lockets become entangled. They pause. He drops 
music and is about to attempt to free them with his left hand, 
when C. hastily draivs her hand back. Both lockets fall. 
C. Oh ! I'm so sorry. I've broken your guard. 
Col. a. That's of no consequence. I hope your wrist is not 
injured. That was quite a wrench. [Goes to take her hand 
again] 



36 A SUCCESSFUL STRATAGEM. 

C. [Raising hand and looking at lorist] Oh, not at all ! But 
my locket's gone. [Looks about floor] 

Col. a. Let me find it for you. [They look about for a mo- 
ment] 
C. Here it is. [Picks up locket] No, this is yours. 
Col. a. And this, I think, is yoiirs. [Same action] [As they 
approach to exchange, he examines locket with interest] A treas- 
ured keepsake, I presume. A portrait? [Pauses as if waiting 
permission to open it. C. confused holds out hand hut keeps his 
locket in other hand. He notes her confusion. They look at each 
other an instant very intently] 

Col. a. [Aside] What a fool I've been not to think of it be- 
fore. [Very seriously and earnestly] Carol, this is a portrait of 
someone you love. 
C. Why should you think that ? 
Col. a. Your eyes have betrayed your secret, Carol. 
C. [Recovers herself, and teasingly] And yours have betrayed 
you, sir. This [Holding up his locket] is a portrait of someone 
you love. 
Col. a. [Aside] Well, I'll have> try for it anyway. 
Col. a. Yes, Carol, it is, and I'm going to tell you all about 
it,— going to confide in you. [Leads way to the sofa] In fact, 
that is v^hat I came here for to-day. 

C. [As they seat themselves] You're going to tell me all about 
it ! And it's what you came for I Then why in the world have 
we been talking, and learning dances and wasting all this time ! 
It was very stupid of you. 

Col. a. Everything I do seems to be very stiipid of me, ac- 
cording to you. 

C. But this is a great deal more stupid than anything else 
you've done. Do you know if there's one thing I enjoy more 
than another, it is being the confidant of a man about his love 
affairs. Not that I ever have been, but I've always thought it 
would be perfectly delightful. 

Col. a. [Aside] If I thovight to awaken any jealousy, I'm 

not doing it. She cannot care for me, or she could not talk this 

way. [Aloud] Dear Carol, she is so lovely, — I cannot tell you 

half how lovely. 

C. [Delightedly] Dear Jack, I'm so glad you are so much in 



A SUCCESSFUL STRATAGEM. 27 

love with her. Of course you would be, but your voice takes on 
so lovely a tone when you speak of her that I'm sure you must 
be very much in love. I call you " Jack," you know, because I 
feel you have come to me as you used when we were children 
together. 

Col. a. I have come in just that way now, Carol. Do you 
remember that time on the river when we were drifting together 
down the stream, and I said — but you were so much younger 
than I, perhaps you could not understand — 

C. [Affecting to be bored] Oh, yes. Jack, I remember all about 
those days. But it's a great deal more interesting now to hear 
all about this affair of yours. May I see the pictiire? [Waits 
for permission to open locket] 

Col. a. Not yet, Carol. 

C. There, you've gotten into that interesting voice again ! 

Col. a. [Aside] She cannot care for me or she could not 
enter thus into my love for another. 

C. [After some silence] You said you were going to confide in 
me, and here you're not telling me anything at all. Just going 
over those stupid old I'iver days. [3Ieets his reproachful glance] 
Dear me, I don't know what to do. What do confidants do any- 
way? Do they ask questions ? I suppose they must. Well then, 
when do yoiT expect to see her again ? 

Col. a. I left town to-day intending to see her before I re- 
turned. 

C. [With affected amazement] Then why in the world are 
you staying here ! How stupid of papa to let you miss that train. 
You must get the very next by all means. I'll give directions. 
[Rises] 

Col. a. No, Carol, pray do not. [Detains her] There are 
certain things in this affair that I want to talk to you about. 
[She lingers with affected reluctance] I have not seen her for 
some time. 

C. Then all the more reason why you must go to her at once. 
She will be so disappointed if you don't come. 

Col. a. [Eagerly] Do you think so, Carol? You really 
think so ? 

C. I know she'll be terribly disappointed. Jack. And you can 
get this next train as well as not if you'll only let me ring. 



28 A SUCCESSFUL STRATAGEM. 

Col. a. [Firmly] But I shall not let j^ou. Be seated, Carol, 
until I have told j'Ou more. Have you no question to ask about 
her, Carol ? [Tenderly] Do you not care to know who she is? 

C. I think it's very interesting to talk about her in just this 
mysterious way, Jack. Still, if you want very much to tell me 
her name, you may ; that is, you may tell me her first name. 
The first name will do, Jack. 

Col. a. It is on the locket. You may read it there. [C. 
raifies the locket, reads. Her manner changes to astonishment, 
chagrin, disappointment. Rises quickly trying to control herself. 
After a struggle she finds voice and speaks aside looking again at 
the locket] 

C. [Aside] Carmen ! [Col. A. watches her intently, waiting 
anxiously for her to give him some encouragement. Shows he 
is puzzled and surprised] O, of this I had no thought ! His love 
not for me ! But he must never know. [Tries very hard to re- 
press a sob and almost breaks down] 

Col. a. [Goes hurriedly to her and seeing her face] Why 
Carol, you are pale and agitated. Pray speak to me ! [She turns 
face aivay and, falls sobbing in seat] Forgive me, dear, if I have 
presumed too rashlJ^ [Kneels beside her] I see I was wrong in 
hoping to find you the same little Carol of our childhood. 

C. [With a strong effort assumes dignity, rising and drawing 
away from him] Colonel Ashmore, it is I who must ask pardon 
for my — my— rudeness in — in — [Hesitates] not responding to your 
confidence. Believe me, I am very g — glad [Almost a sob] that 
you have found a worthy object for your love. Pray allow me 
to return you her portrait. The name's a very pretty one. Span- 
ish, is it not ? 

Col. a. [Still on knees and still more amazed] Na.me ! Span- 
ish ! Why, Carol, what do you mean? [Rises quickly] 

C. I mean this name here on your locket. [With intention, 
and holding out locket] Carmen ! 

Col. a. [Looks quickly at locket, then up, a neiv light in his 
face] Oh, that ! [With great relief and gently turning locket in 
her hand] Look on the other side, Carol. [As she is about to do 
so, he puts his hand over it] No, not yet ! You know the mean- 
ing of the name I gave you in our childhood. I called you 
" Carol " because your presence was as joyful as a song. You 



A StJOeESSPUL STRATAGEM. Sd 

are the joy-song of my life, Carol. It was my fancy to put that 
title in Latin on my locket,— Co?'j?ien Laetitiae. For the moment 
I forgot that it was there. But see. [Takes hand aicay] On the 
other side your name I [C. has by this time become radiant, but 
carefully keeps him from seeing her face] And here within 
[Opening locket] your face,— my boyhood sweetheart's face 1 All 
that is left me now, I fear, of my cherished love. [He is about 
to take the locket when she quickly closes her hand upon it, still 
keeping her face averted] 

C. You have forgotten my locket, Ja — Colonel Ashmore ! 

Col. a. Oh, true ! [Places it in her hand, lohich is still ex- 
tended and open as she speaks] And now let me pain you no 
more, Carol, I will take my leave. [He again'starts to take lock- 
et] [She again closes her hand] 

C. [Opens her locket, and placing it beside the one in her hand 
extends it toward him] You have forgotten something else, Co — 
Jack I 

Col. a. What? 

C. [Face fidl towards him] Your answer I 
[He starts towards her. She puts hand with lockets before his 
face. He looks at them. She smiles joyfidly as he looks at 
her inquiringly. She nods her head] 

CoL. A. Carol ! [Takes her in his arms] 

Eyiter Col. Wentworth [C] unperceived. 

Col. W. [Aside] I seem to come in at the most important 
stages of this affair ! But it is much more interesting than stay- 
ing alone with Carrie. [Aloud] H'm — h'm. [Coughs in a half- 
subdued tone to announce his presence] [Caroline has meanwhile 
— dumb show — been informing Col. Ashmore of her dual charac- 
ter] Colonel Ashmore, I hope you can arrange to take a later 
train and stay for a cup of tea with us ? 

Col. a. [Rises to meet him] On one condition, Colonel Went- 
worth. 

Col. W. Ah, that sounds like your father ! The first thing 
I've known you to do that was like him. John Ashmore never 
wanted to do anything without conditions. And what are your 
conditions ? 

Col. a. That I may have your daughter, — your younger 



30 A StrCCESSFtTL STfeAtAGKM. 

daughter, [All laugh] and that we may have your blessing. 
[Leads Caroline to her father] 

C. [Aixhly] Here comes the tea, papa, and of course our 
guest must not go. [Puts her hand in Ms] 

Col. W. [Placing her hand in Col. Ashmore's] Which forces 
me to accept the conditions. 



Note. — The Oxford Minuet Is published by Lyon & Healy, 
Chicago, and is used in this play by permission of the composer, 
Mr. Horace W. Beek of Chicago. 



V\AH^^ 



190^ 



GOOD AS GOLD 

A COMEDY IN FOUR SHORT ACTS 

BY 

K. McDowell Rice 



A PLAY FOR GIRLS 

FOR COLLEGE, SCHOOL OR HOME THEATRICALS 

FULL STAGE DIRECTIONS 

DESCRIPTION OF COSTUMES, ETC. 



The play throughout sparkles with wit. 

— Northampton Gazette. 

A genuine bit of comedy fully deserving the success and popu- 
larity it has already received. 

— Mrs. Mary Mapes Dodge, 

Editor St. NicJiolas Magazine. 



Price, 25 cents 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




